


Magnolia lights

by Anonymous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1977147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s got one boss that’s a hardass ex-con florist that takes his job way too seriously, and the other doesn’t know a thing about flowers. Even so, Jean enjoys his days working at the flower shop.</p><p>He’s never had so much fun, though, as when a bright-eyed boy stops by every Friday asking for tulips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnolia lights

Jean barely noticed the bell on the door jingling, too wrapped up in scrubbing at the counter. If it wasn’t spotless, Levi would give him a tongue-lashing.  _Again_.

_“The fuck is this? Is that a soda stain? What kind of shitty flower shop do you think we’re running, Kirstein?”_

He narrowed his eyes at the memory.

“ _‘_ _What kind of shitty flower shop do you think we’re running, Kirstein?_ _’_ ” Jean mimicked to himself, his voice going low and rough in a poor imitation of Levi’s. He scrubbed harder, making sure there was nothing to complain about.

“Glad to know you’re cleaning properly,” Levi said, amused.

 _Shit_.

“You’ve got a customer.” Levi gestured with a nod of his head over to a boy standing in front of the counter, who went unnoticed by Jean. “Give him a 30% discount.”

“Gotcha,” said Jean, grateful that, as tough as Levi was, he never took things too personally.

“I don’t sound like that, by the way,” Levi said as he disappeared into the back room.

“You kind of do,” the customer shouted, and Jean quirked up an eyebrow.

“Shut it!” Levi said from the other room.

“So, what can I help you with?” said Jean, looking the boy over and wondering how he knew Levi and why he got a discount.

“A dozen tulips,” he said simply. “Any color.”

“Do you want them in a gift box and delivered? Or a card to go with—”

“Just the tulips, thanks,” he said, and Jean couldn’t tell if he was being curt or if this was just how he normally was.

“Okay then,” said Jean, a little miffed.

He walked over to the tulips, scanning them for a moment, then mindlessly picked the red ones. The boy looked over at him, eyes disappointed as Jean gathered up a dozen stems.

“Red’s no good?” said Jean.  _You said any color_ , he thought with annoyance.

“No,” he said with smile that didn’t look all that happy. “Red’s fine.”

Jean punched at the register keys when he was done preparing the flowers, and the customer handed him a debit card.

 _“Eren Yeager,”_  he read on the receipt.  _“Eren.”_   What an unusual name.

“With a 30% discount, your total comes out to $17.50,” Jean said as he handed over the flowers.

Eren took them and cradled them gently in his arms, almost surprising Jean. He looked a bit like a the rough type, with bandaids and scratches and bruises on his arms and shin, and Jean’s first assumption was that he got into fights. Maybe that assumption had something to do with knowing he was familiar with Levi, though, who had spent a few years in prison.

But Eren cradled the flowers so carefully, the red petals looking especially bright as they brushed against his tan bicep. All of a sudden he didn’t seem nearly as rough as he looked.

“Thank you,” he said, and made his way out after glancing at his watch.

“You’re welcome!” Jean called out as he left. “Have a nice day, Eren.”

Pausing just as he was in the doorway, Eren turned around at the sound of his name, the bell of the door jingling as he was about to leave. He blinked, wondering how Jean got his name.

“Come again,” said Jean with an obligatory smile.

Eren’s lips curved, and Jean couldn’t tell whether he was pursing his lips or smiling.

“I will.”

❀

He came back sooner than Jean expected—Friday again, the next week, at noon.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said without thinking.

Eren raised an eyebrow, wondering if that was meant to be rude or not.

“What can I do for you today?”

“A dozen tulips. Any color.”

 _Again?_  was all Jean could think.

“Nothing extra, right?” said Jean.

“Yeah.”

Jean picked the red ones again, just to see if Eren really didn’t like them, and confirmed his observation when Eren’s eyes looked at them in obvious disappointment.

“Should I pick another color?”

“No,” said Eren. “Red’s good. Sorry.”

“So, ‘Eren,’ huh? That’s an unusual name. Does it mean anything?”

“I think it’s Turkish for saint, or something.”

“That’s cool. I think my name means ‘gift from god’ or ‘god is gracious’ —something like that.”

“We’re both so holy,” Eren joked.

“What about your last name? What’s that mean?”

“Not sure,” said Eren. “I’ll look it up for you.”

It was the type of thing that would sound sarcastic in theory, but Eren said it with complete sincerity, and Jean wondered how much personal information he could get out of Eren before he started reacting like your average person would, which would be to get at least a little weird or uncomfortable with twenty questions from a stranger.

“Is that your natural eye color or do you wear contacts?”

“Natural,” said Eren. “My vision’s fine, too.”

“What are you gonna do after you drop off these flowers?”

“I don’t know, maybe have lunch or visit some friends.”

“Do you think abstract art is legitimate art or is it a bunch of bullshit?”

“Not really sure, but it’s nice to look at, even if I don’t always know why people pay millions of dollars for it.”

“What’s your shoe size?”

“US? I’m a ten in mens.”

“Mac or PC?”

“I have no idea how to use a Mac. I think my best friend has one, though.”

“Have you ever gotten checked for any STDs?”

“Yeah,” said Eren, “but I was a virgin when I did. Don’t ask why. I was a very paranoid and slightly dim teenager.”

Jean laughed, and then wondered if his laughter was offensive, but Eren didn’t seem to take it that way.

Eren didn’t look fazed at all, answering his random rapid fire questions naturally and without reserve.

Jean wanted to ask more, to keep prodding, but Eren had to leave, and Jean wondered how many questions he could’ve asked before Eren came across one he didn’t want to answer.

❀

He came back again next week, again on Friday, again right around noon. He walked in as Jean was lazily sweeping up leaves and plant debris on the floor. He sighed, stretching his already loose collar for more air. It was so unbearably hot, his shirt feeling sticky and awkward against his skin.

He rested his cheek against the end of the long broom handle, letting it poke him uncomfortably and giving him a chubby-faced look.

Friday’s were always busier than usual, which he never really minded (although he did enjoy being lazy), but the spring heat made everything a chore. It felt more like summer, really.

He looked down at a leaf caught in the straw bristles of his broom, wondering if he should’ve taken a job at Starbucks instead.

He finished sweeping and stretched out his arms languidly.

 _Nah_. Starbucks had better air-conditioning, but the flower shop was nice in a way he couldn’t describe, and the customers here were less obnoxious than Starbucks patrons.

“Hello?”

Jean let down his arms and turned around.

“What can I help you with today?”

“A dozen tulips,” said Eren. “Any color. Nothing extra.”

Jean looked over the tulips, decidedly avoiding the red ones this time, and went for orange. He gathered them together and glanced over at Eren to see his reaction.

He didn’t look as disappointed as last time, but he didn’t look happy either. Did this guy just not like flowers? Or was he just gloomy all the time?

“Is orange okay?” said Jean, uncertain and mildly annoyed.

“It’s fine.”

He rang up the flowers, assuming Eren got a 30% discount again, and handed them over.

Eren held them in his arm just as carefully as the last time, and he stared down at them with a certain fondness in his eyes, and Jean thought that maybe this guy didn’t hate flowers after all.

It was then he noticed the Shiganshina University logo on his T-shirt, covered up slightly by the flowers. That wasn’t too far from here—only ten minutes or so by foot.

“Thanks.”

“So why do you get a discount, anyway?” said Jean, curious and not caring if he sounded rude.

“I’ve known the owner for a while. I guess he just feels like being nice to me.”

“ _Levi_? Being  _nice_  to you? Was he high or something?” He was unable to keep the incredulousness out of his voice.

Eren laughed loudly, the sound of it filling the room, his smile so wide and Jean never knew it was capable of stretching any further than what was necessary for saying, “A dozen tulips. Any color.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type, right?” said Eren, still smiling impossibly wide.

His head was tilted slightly downward towards the flowers, but he looked up at Jean with bright eyes under thick lashes, and Jean had never really seen anyone’s eyes sparkle before but he thought that maybe he was seeing it now.

“Not at all,” said Jean, his voice sounding dazed and his head swirling a little.  _Must be the heat_ , he told himself as he fumbled with Eren’s receipt.

“He’s kind, though, honestly.”

“I guess so,” said Jean. He looked away, not quite sure why he felt a little bashful now. “Do you know Erwin, too?”

“Yeah,” said Eren. “I’ve known them both for a while. Is Erwin still completely oblivious about flowers?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Levi shouted with irritation from the back room. “It’s been seven years since we opened and he still doesn’t know the difference between foliar fertilizer and organic fertilizer.”

They heard Levi continue to grumble to himself, and Jean figured he was still annoyed with Erwin last week for fertilizing the flowers foliar fertilizer instead of organic, saying something about,  _“Did you think they needed potassium or something? Or could you not at least look up which fertilizer type was which? Or ask me or the brat?”_  to which Erwin responded,  _“There are different types of fertilizer?”_

Eren looked down at his watch. “I have to get going.”

“Come again,” said Jean as Eren opened the door.

“I will,” he said, the jingling of the bell coloring over his words. With a short wave Eren left, not turning back to look at him, but Jean could see the uplift of his cheek that told him he was smiling.

He watched through the window as Eren disappeared from sight down the sidewalk.

Jean leaned his cheek in his palm as his elbow sat on the counter, his expression bored but his eyes intrigued.

“Huh.”

❀

He came in every Friday, right around noon, without fail. By the fifth week, Jean began to wonder what all the tulips were for.

He sat on his stool, head resting on the counter (it was a surprisingly slow Friday), and thought about how much it all costed him. College students were notoriously broke (Jean should know), but Eren still bought flowers every week. He didn’t look particularly rich, either: he didn’t wear expensive name brands, didn’t drive an expensive car (which Jean had noted the one time Eren actually drove here, since he normally walked).

Sliding the calculator in front of him, Jean began punching in the numbers.

If Eren continued this pattern, then it was $17.50 a week for 52 weeks a year, which came out to almost $1,000. It wouldn’t be a lot to spend on food or rent or insurance, but $1,000 a year for  _flowers_?

What were they all for?

He suddenly looked up at the clock, remembering the time.

12:04 a.m.

A few minutes later, Eren walked through the door.

“Tulips, any color?” said Jean.

Eren laughed, and Jean had to look over and see his wide grin before he went to work. “You could at least let me say hello first.”

Jean turned to the flowers and smiled at his response. “It’s not like you ever said hello the other times,” he said.

“Oh, sorry,” said Eren with surprising sincerity.

Jean blinked and turned to him; he really hadn’t meant anything by it, but Eren looked apologetic, his hand on the back of his neck and his face adorably remorseful, like he was a puppy that had just been chastised.

 _Adorably remorseful?_  Jean’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“N- No,” said Jean. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It wasn’t really rude or anything.”

“Oh, good,” said Eren with relief.

Turning back to the tulips, Jean let out a breath of laughter.

Eren was so  _polite_. How cute.

_Cute?_

The thought surprised him so much that he started choking on nothing in particularly, coughing badly until Eren rushed beside him, patting his back firmly.

This only made Jean stiffen, the feeling of Eren’s hand on his back taking him by surprise.

“You okay, man?” said Eren.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” said Jean weakly. “I might’ve coughed on your flowers.”

Eren laughed, and the sound drew Jean in immediately, his head turning without thinking to face Eren.

“That’s all right,” said Eren.

“Levi would give me a lecture about coughing on the flowers.”

“He’s so anal,” Eren said.

“Shut up!” Levi yelled from the other room, making Jean turn around in surprise and Eren laugh harder.

“Stop eavesdropping!” Eren shouted back.

“How about you two stop flirting! Just sell him the dirty cough flowers already, Kirstein,” said Levi.

“The flowers are fine,” Eren mumbled, looking away and ignoring the comment about flirting entirely, but Jean thought his expression was a little shy.

He handed Eren purple tulips this time, which Eren seemed neutral about.

Was purple okay, then? Jean had picked red again last week, which Eren didn’t seem very happy about.

“Purple tulips?” said Eren. “I don’t see those too often.”

“They’re nice,” said Jean. “I think they symbolize royalty or rebirth or something.”

“Huh,” said Eren with obvious interest. He paused for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

Jean gave him a questioning look.

“It’s nothing,” said Eren.

Jean didn’t pry.

When Jean handed over the flowers, Eren leaned against the counter instead of leaving, which he usually did.

“What school do you go to?” he asked out of the blue.

Jean could ask why he wanted to know, but he figured that Eren always took his bluntness and honesty with such good humor, so he might as well do the same.

“Trost College,” said Jean, pulling up his stool and sitting.

“Seriously?” said Eren. “My sister goes there!”

“No kidding? What’s her name?”

“Mikasa Ackerman.”

“Oh, I’ll keep an eye out, then,” said Jean. “Why the different last names?”

“She was adopted,” said Eren. “Kept her last name.”

This sparked Jean’s curiosity, and he realized that in the seven weeks he had known Eren (seven days, really, if he only came in once a week), he didn’t know much about him, despite the conversations that seemed to go on a little longer each time.

What  _did_  he know about Eren?

He went to Shiganshina University, was friends with Levi, and evidently had an adopted sister named Mikasa.

Three concrete facts in total.

Well, he supposed he also knew that Eren was a size ten shoe in US mens, that he was okay with abstract art, and that he didn’t know how to use a Mac.

(There were the other facts that Jean didn’t want to think about at the moment, like the way Eren’s laugh was hearty and pleasant, or that his canines seemed to be sharper than average, or that his hair was always messy, or that he always fidgeted with his hands when he was nervous or guilty and was, in fact, a very touchy person with little sense of personal space, and despite his gruff first impression was rather polite and considerate, but he was also pretty sassy—)

Jean ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, trying not to think of all the things that he noticed about Eren, all of the little facts he gathered and hoarded like the seashells he used to collect when he was younger.

He would polish each one, run them under the water to wash them of the sand, and see them shine clearly.

With Eren in his company for the eighth week in a row, he realized that he wanted to do that with Eren, too.

He had messy hair and no sense of personal space, but what was his favorite color? What did he major in? Who was his best friend? Why was he always covered in scratches and band-aids? Was he religous? What were all the flowers for?

( _Was he interested in men?_ )

“Hey, Eren,” said Jean, adjusting himself on his seat to get comfortable.

“Hm?”

“You busy?”

Eren looked down at the tulips on the counter. “I guess not. Not immediately, anyway. Why?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

Eren wasn’t fazed at all, only smiled and tilted his head.

“Well,” he said, “my favorite color is yellow.”

“Utterly fascinating,” said Jean, and he was only partly joking. “Go on.”

❀

 _A dog walker_ , Jean thought as he laughed out loud, no one around to hear him.

All this time he had thought Eren was getting into fights, but he was just around rowdy dogs all day for a living. He couldn’t believe it. Somehow, though, it fit Eren’s personality.  _Looks like he gets into fights, actually just got playfully mauled by a German shepherd._

Jean’s fingers lingered on the petals of the tulips, and wondered if it was just tulips he didn’t like, or if he didn’t care for all flowers. He looked around the shop. There were roses, peonies, sunflowers, carnations, gladioli, sweet peas, orchids, lilies—all in so many colors and filling up every crook and corner of the room.

Which ones did Eren like?

Jean walked outside, inspecting the flowers right outside the shop, and took a deep breath. There was a cool breeze today, and it wasn’t too hot. The shop wasn’t busy, either, so Jean could be as lazy and comfortable as he pleased, but there was some anticipation and disappointment inside him that wouldn’t let him fully relax.

He leaned back against the shop window, crossed his arms, and watched listlessly as cars drove by.

It was only Thursday.

❀

He ran into Eren at the park one Wednesday (maybe  _“ran into”_  was a bit too strong, because Eren had told him before that he worked from 4:00 to 6:00 on Wednesday at the park near the shop, and after Jean was done with class he just  _happened_ to have the urge to visit the park for the first time in four years). All “coincidence” aside, Jean finally got to see Eren and his dog-walking action.

He watched as poodles and dachshunds and golden retrievers and god knows what other types of dogs (they were almost as varied as flowers, he thought) ran around as Eren tried to keep up. Sometimes he’d stop to play with them, getting licked and sometimes mildly injured by overenthusiastic German shepherds.

It was probably the cutest thing he had ever seen.

Jean was just content to sit on the bench and watch him, but Eren shot him a dirty look.

“Help me out here!” he yelled from a distance, and while Jean didn’t find running around and playing with dogs particularly enjoyable, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

“Why?” he said, but he ran over to Eren anyway. “You usually do this by yourself anyway.”

“I know,” said Eren, grinning as a dog was pulling away, “but you’re here now.”

He said it while kneeling under a great magnolia tree, knees sunken in grass and petals, and he looked up at Jean with those bright eyes under thick lashes—the way Jean remembered them the first time he was charmed by that look.

 _“but you’re here now”_ —Eren said it to him simply, and probably without any meaning behind it, but they still knocked the wind out of him, made him want to get on his knees and fist the grass to feel how real and good this all was.

After an hour and a half they were both exhausted (actually, though, it was just Jean panting as he lay on the grass, while Eren was sitting cross-legged, calmer and much less sweaty, the bastard).

“Time to take the dogs home,” said Eren.

“Just give me a minute,” said Jean, still breathing heavily.

Eren gave him a playfully judgemental look, and Jean started throwing grass at him and telling him to “Shut up,” despite Eren not actually having said anything.

“But you were  _thinking_  judgemental thoughts,” said Jean accusingly.

“I’m just surprised you’re so tired.”

“I don’t do this multiple times a week, unlike you,” said Jean, still pelting him with grass.

“Yeah,” said Eren, “but you look like you work out.”

Jean’s hand stilled, letting his fistfull of grass fall, and cursed himself for being such a  _white_  white boy because he could feel his face going warm at the compliment and he hoped his cheeks weren’t red.

He looked at Eren, who looked back at him with his normal expression, like he hadn’t just implicitly told Jean that he had a nice body, and Jean kind of wanted to punch him in the face for looking so casual. Or maybe kiss him. He didn’t know.

They dropped off each dog, one by one, and it was interesting to see the owners Eren interacted with on a regular basis. Some looked at Jean with curiosity, wondering who he was. Some were distant and polite, and others treated Eren warmly and familiarly. There were some dogs, Jean found out, that Eren had been walking for years.

When the last dog was gone and they reached the end of the road, the sun almost setting now, Jean turned to Eren, who was stretching and yawning.

“Hey, Eren.”

“Hm?” He rubbed at his eyes, looking almost like a child.

Jean meant to say it as a statement, assertively and casually, but it came out like a question, tentative and vulnerable: “Let me come back next Wednesday?”

Eren blinked, looking less sleepy now, and smiled.

“Of course.”

Eren said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Jean came back the next Wednesday, and every Wednesday after that.

❀

Their Wednesday routine became as solid as their Friday routine, so it alarmed Eren when Jean said he couldn’t come to the park this week because he was too tired and needed to study.

He wondered briefly if he had done anything to upset Jean or put him off, but he seemed genuine when he said he had to study his ass off for finals.

Eren decided to drop by  _not_ on a Friday, which was rare, but still becoming more frequent.

“Eren!” Jean said with a heartbreaking smile, like he was a wonderful sight to see on a Monday, and Eren couldn’t help but grin back.

“Hey,” he said. “I came by to see how you were doing. You sounded dead on the phone.”

“Yeah,” said Jean, his enthusiasm dimming, and Eren noticed the darkness under his eyes and his droopy posture. “I’m tired. Did a lot of studying, still have a lot of studying, and my last final is on Thursday and I don’t know if I’m going to survive this week.”

“Take care of yourself,” said Eren. “You look thinner than usual.”

Jean looked down at his body and supposed he was right—he hadn’t been eating much, after all.

He just didn’t expect it when Eren said he would bring by some food for him later to make sure he was eating (it wasn’t even a question, just a demand to know what his apartment number was, since he had only ever seen the outside).

He also didn’t expect Eren to show up the next evening, glass pan of mac and cheese in hand, asking if Jean had had dinner yet. When he said no, Eren scolded him.

It was an odd sight, seeing Eren in his barely-used kitchen, but not in a bad way.

“Did you make that yourself?” said Jean, sitting at his kitchen table and watching as Eren stuck the pan in the oven.

“Yup,” he said. “Cooking is one of my many charm points.”

“You’d make a great househusband.”

“That’s my back-up plan if this whole marine-biologist thing doesn’t work out.”

“I thought your back-up plan was to become a teacher. That’s the whole point of your Biology and Education major.”

“That’s really my  _third_  back-up plan. Househusband actually sounds pretty nice: wearing an apron all day, cooking and cleaning, looking after the children, waiting for the hubby to come home. What domestic bliss!” Eren said, smiling and hands clasped together in an exaggerated enthusiasm.

Jean wanted to laugh at his joking, but he couldn’t help notice that Eren had said “hubby,” as in “husband,” as in he was quite possibly interested in men.

When the oven dinged and Eren carefully took the pan of mac and cheese out, oven mitts on his hands, he really did look like a househusband, Jean thought with amusement.

They ate together, and he couldn’t help but think about this same vision, but maybe somewhere in the future, when they were older, and probably in a different apartment; Eren would be a marine biologist (Jean knew he wouldn’t fail, although he was sure he’d be happy as a teacher too), and Jean would maybe figure out what he wanted to do with his life by then. He was thinking lately of becoming a lawyer like his father.

Maybe he would come home tired every day in a stuffy suit, and Eren would home come tired too, but they’d have interesting stories to tell each other—trials and cases and crazy clients for Jean and whales and sea creatures for Eren (he wasn’t exactly sure of the specifics of what marine biologists did).

And when they ran out of stories they could just sit together on the couch and watch shitty movies, and Eren would insist on a thriller even though Jean didn’t care too much for them, and they would argue a bit over it before Jean gave in.

Maybe they would fall asleep together, and wake up together, and go out to dinner when Eren was too lazy to cook (and god knows Jean couldn’t cook at all), and celebrate Christmas together year after year.

“ _Eat_ ,” Eren said when he noticed Jean just holding his fork, looking down at the food thoughtfully.

Jean blinked, snapping out of his daydreams, and stuck his fork in the food.

“Right,” he said. “Thanks.”

❀

Eren came back on Wednesday night with vegetable soup, figuring Jean was near his limit with his last final the next day and should have something healthy.

When he knocked, no one answered, so he reached over the door over the frame and under the false thin wood covering to grab the spare key, which Jean mentioned to him offhandedly a month ago.

When he got into the living room he saw Jean laying on his side on the cough, body curved and fists curled slightly like an infant’s.

He set the soup on the coffee table next to the opened textbooks and papers and kneeled beside the couch, leaning his cheek against the cushioned arm. He looked at Jean, who looked more peaceful than he did awake, but still had a little crease between his brow, and Eren wondered if he was dreaming of studying in his sleep, too, like Eren sometimes did when he had a big exam coming up.

His lashes brushed against his cheeks, eyes fluttering for a moment, and his face looked so pale in the dim lighting (they were always pale, of course, and Jean sunburned so easily). Eren swallowed thickly, almost like something was stuck in his throat or heart and he couldn’t get it out, and he started rubbing at his chest, wondering if that aching was supposed to be there or if he just had heart problems, and then he told himself to stop playing dumb, because there was no point in lying to yourself.

Lifting up his hand slowly, Eren gently pressed a thumb to the crease between Jean’s brows. His eyes fluttered open with a start, and panicked for a moment before he realized it was just Eren.

Eren thought Jean might look a little more surprised, but he just snorted and looked up at him, not moving his thumb away.

“You have no sense of personal space,” said Jean, and Eren smiled.

“I brought you soup,” he said, and began pulling his hand away.

Jean took it before he did, setting it down beside him on the couch and squeezing it gently.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and closed his eyes again, threatening to fall back asleep, and all Eren could do was stare at Jean’s hand on his, and wondered if the aching in his chest would ever go away.

❀

He got off of work early on Thursdays to attend class, which started at 2:00 p.m. and ended at 4:00 p.m., and despite the short day Jean was left slumped over the steering wheel of his car, eyes closing and body worn. It was probably the late-night studying he did for the past five nights that screwed him over for today, but he probably got a decent grade on the exam he just took. It was his last one, and summer was finally starting.

He hoped he got a decent grade, anyway. If he dropped a letter grade in the class, one of his scholarships would be rescinded, and he was so dangerously close to that line.

Jean let himself indulge in a long, frustrated groan, hoping no one was close enough to hear him. Afterwards, he turned on the radio and sat for a moment before finally deciding to go.

Just as he was about to put the keys in the ignition, his phone buzzed.

He checked his messages and groaned again.

> **Erwin** : Can you stop by the store and pick up some metal buckets? A few of the ones we’re using haven gotten rusty.

“Fuck.”

All he wanted to do was get back to his apartment and lay on the couch forever while watching the Food Network. Maybe celebrate the end of his exams by inhaling two Hawaiian pizzas all by himself. Was that too much to ask?

Jean twisted the key in the ignition with frustration. Why did Erwin make him do shit when he was off the clock? Wasn’t that unprofessional?

After Jean bought the buckets from the nearest store (he bought five because Erwin hadn’t specified how many, and he was too lazy and pissed to ask) and dropped them off (god help him if Erwin asked for more, because he’d probably say something stupid and angry and get himself in trouble), he sat on the chair right outside the shop, enjoying the cool air.

It was almost evening, but the sky was still nice and blue, and it’d be long before it got dark. There were so many perks to spring.

A bottle appeared over his shoulder, and Jean looked up to see Levi leaning over him, offering him a beer.

“You look like shit,” said Levi, which meant something like, “You look like you could use one,” and Jean finally knew him well enough to understand that.

“Thanks,” he said sincerely and twisted the cap.

Saying nothing more, Levi left to attend the shop again, leaving Jean to his much needed solitude.

He didn’t think about anything for a while, just enjoying the perfect weather and the simple comforts of a wooden chair and no exams to study for, but he could only stare at the sky for so long before wondering what Eren was doing right now.

He took a long sip of his beer (nothing had ever tasted so sweet), and wondered if he’d ever get over this infatuation, or if he even wanted to get over it.

Stretching out his legs and sighing in satisfaction at the feeling, Jean walked over to the park nearby, which he missed going to the day before because he had to study.

When he woke up that morning, though, there was soup on his coffee table, and he had it for breakfast with an pleasant but unbearable ache in his chest, and he wondered if Eren knew how long it had been since Jean had had home-cooked meals.

It was like a coming home to a gift, seeing Eren sprawled out on the bench under the magnolia tree, reading a book.

Eren looked up, noticing him, and his eyes widened slightly.

“It’s you,” said Jean, a little breathless.

Eren only smiled at him and moved over to make room for him to sit.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to drink in public,” said Eren, looking at the beer in his hand.

“I’m too exhausted to give a shit. I’m done with finals and that means I don’t have to follow any laws,” said Jean, taking a swig. “You want some?”

Eren took it wordlessly and sat his book down. “Partners in crime,” he said, and took a sip.

Jeaned took his eyes off Eren, who still had the glass bottle pressed against his lips, and looked up at the flowers in the tree, noting how they weren’t as pristine as the magnolias they had in the shop, but still lovely.

He wondered if this what was love felt like, because it was so, so sweet. Sweeter than the smell of flowers mingled with rain in April, sweeter than a cold beer after a long day.

“Why don’t you like tulips?” Jean said quietly as Eren kept drinking.

“They’re depressing,” Eren said after a moment. “My mom loved them, so that’s what was beside her hospital bed every day.”

Jean didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say, couldn’t get the image of an eleven-year-old Eren sitting helplessly beside his mother’s bedside, an image he couldn’t shake since Eren had told him months ago that his mother died when he was young.

Eren just continued when Jean remained silent.

“Did you ever read that Sylvia Plath poem, the one about red tulips? That always reminds me of my mom in the hospital, too,” he said. “Tulips are just kind of sad.”

“You think they’re sad,” Jean said, the knowledge finally dawning on him. “I never realized.”

“You know,” said Eren, “in all the time that we’ve known each other, all the time we’ve spent together, with me coming into the shop every week, you’ve never asked about why I come in every Friday for tulips. I know you’re curious.”

It was moments before Jean could respond, before he knew what to say; he struggled with it, and the truth was that he didn’t want to ask if Eren didn’t want to say, but he just said,

“I think you just told me.”

Eren blinked, surprised for moment, then chuckled. “I guess I did.”

He didn’t say any more about it, so, for once, Jean didn’t ask.

Letting out a yawn, he said loudly, “I’m tired,” and used his exhaustion as an excuse to lean his head on Eren’s shoulder.

“What  _is_ a flower you like, then?” said Jean.

Eren gestured up at the tree they sat under, and both their gazes flew upward.

“Magnolias,” said Eren, “are my favorite. Especially these yellow ones.”

“Oh,” he breathed. After a moment, he said, “I think they represent joy, and spring.”

“How  _fitting_ ,” Eren said wistfully, a little dazed, and leaned his head against Jean’s.

❀

It was the first Friday of Jean’s summer break, and he hadn’t seen Eren in an entire week, which, at this point in their friendship, was jarring.

He waited eagerly as the minute hand of the clock ticked, somewhat distracted when other customers came in, just waiting for that ambiguous time around noon.

The clock struck 12:00 exactly and the bell on the door jingled. Jean’s eyes shot from the clock to the door, breath picking up in anticipation, but it was only a stranger.

“Hi,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. “How can I help you today?”

“I’d like to buy a dozen tulips, please,” she said quietly. “Any color is fine.”

Frozen in place, he stared at her for a moment before stuttering an “okay,” the order taking him aback.

When he looked at her receipt, he immediately called her name before she could leave.

“Mikasa?”

She turned around, a little surprised.

“You’re Eren’s sister, right?”

“Yes,” she said, not surprised at all that he knew, and he wondered if Eren talked about him to Mikasa as much as he talked to Jean about Mikasa.

“Where is he today? Why are you here instead?”

She had a pained look on her face, which sent alarm bells ringing in Jean’s head because Eren would’ve told him if he wasn’t coming into the shop this week, and why did his sister look like she didn’t want to answer him and—

She said it low, but Jean heard it perfectly clearly. “He’s in the hospital.”

❀

He didn’t wait for her to explain, only hearing the words “Sina Hospital near the university” and “hit by a car,” and Jean was pulling Levi by his shirt sleeve out of the back room to cover for him as he rushed to his car, driving with a pounding heart to see Eren.

When he got Eren’s room number he ran to elevator, tapping a fist anxiously against the wall and wondering  _why the fuck these elevators are so slow_ , and when it finally dinged he almost crashed into the elevator doors trying to get out.

When he shoved open the door to see Eren sitting up on the hospital bed, idly eating a pudding cup with a magazine in lap, his knees gave out and he slumped to the floor, back against the door.

“Hey, Jean,” he said with a plastic spoon in his mouth, only mildly surprised.

“What, the  _fuck_?” he almost screamed.

“Oh,” said Eren, looking down at his own leg in a cast, “I got hit by a car.”

“ _How_?”

“I was chasing Jerry down the street and I wasn’t looking at the crosswalk light.”

“Who the hell is Jerry?”

“The dachshund?”

“Oh my god,” Jean groaned, half in frustration and half in relief.

He pushed himself off the floor and sat by Eren’s bedside, bending over and burying his face in the bed. His head was nuzzled against Eren’s side, and he took his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he said.

Eren smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I’m fine, though. Except my leg is broken and my shoulder kind of hurts.”

“ _Good_ ,” said Jean.  _Good that it wasn’t worse._

Turning his head, Jean spotted the yellow magnolias on the table.

“Who brought you the flowers?” said Jean.

“Levi,” said Eren. “Brought them by this morning.”

“How nice of him,” he said with chuckle.

Eren pulled his hand away, the new space between his fingers feeling disappointing, but then ran his fingers through Jean’s hair, so slow and comforting.

“Let me stay with you tonight?” said Jean, and again he meant to say it as a statement, but it came out like a question.

“Sure,” said Eren as he continued stroking, and Jean leaned into it.

“Hey, Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Can I come with you next time, to see your mom?”

Eren paused for a moment, then said, “Okay.”

“Hey, Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever look up what your last name meant?”

“I think it means hunter,” he said.

“Huh,” said Jean. “Can I have some pudding?”

“Of course,” said Eren. “Hey, Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“What do red tulips symbolize?”

“I think it means romantic love, or perfect love. Something like that.”

“Oh,” he said. “That’s not terribly symbolic. If my mother had loved lilies or something—that would’ve been fitting. I think I read they have a motherly connotation.”

“Well, you got hit by a car chasing Jerry and you're absolutely fine, and now you’re eating pudding. Be glad some things aren’t symbolic. I’d hate it if we were in a novel, because I’m pretty sure you’d be dead right now.”

“True,” said Eren, and he began to lazily flipped the page of his magazine, his hand still in Jean’s hair.

❀

They sat on the grass, their backs against each other and holding each other up, and Eren had just laid white tulips against Karla Yeager’s gravestone.

“Do you talk to her while you’re here?” said Jean.

“Not really,” said Eren. “I guess I think a lot, and mostly I’m just quiet and I sit here for a while.”

“Maybe you should bring her some magnolias one of these days,” he said.

“Huh,” said Eren. “I’ve never thought of that.”

“How’s your leg?”

“It’s fine now. A little stiff, a little sore, but mostly okay.”

They continued to make idle conversation, talking about mundane things and silly things, and Jean thought that sitting with Eren in front of his mother’s grave would involve more crying or deep, meaningful talks than the one they were having, but this felt just right.

“It’s almost 6:00.” Eren said. “We’ve been here for a few hours.”

Jean thought this was a cue to end their day and go home, but Eren said, “You want to go to the park?” and Jean couldn’t refuse.

They sat on the grass so Eren could stretch out his leg, and Jean sat up while Eren lay down, his head resting on his arm.

The breeze blew harder as the sun fellow low and pink, the flower petals of the tree riding on the wind. Eren was lying on a bed of grass and leaves and loose magnolia petals, eyes closed. There were leaves and petals in his hair, on his stomach, in the palm of his free hand, and they were little magnolia lights scattered all over him like the travel lines on a map.

“Eren.”

“Hm?” he said, eyes still closed.

“I’m kind of in love with you.”

His eyes opened then, looking up at Jean, and he was silent. He looked ridiculous and beautiful covered in yellow, and if he rejected him right now Jean thought he’d hurt for years and never get over it, but he couldn’t ever regret meeting Eren, or spending his days with Eren, or falling in love Eren, or being his friend.

Instead, though, Eren lowered his lids a bit, looking up at him with bright eyes under thick lashes, and said, “Me too.”

❀

Their Friday routine didn’t change. The bell of the door still jingled around noon, and Eren walked in with an impossibly wide and heartbreaking grin, and Jean walked over to the tulips.

Today, though, Eren stood right behind Jean, resting his chin on his shoulder as Jean picked a color.

“What’s it going to be today?” said Eren, lips so close to Jean’s neck that he could feel his warm breath, and his heart thumped faster.

“I don’t know,” said Jean, wanting to draw this out so he could keep Eren’s head on his shoulders and lips near his neck forever. “I’ve given you everything.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “Oh, wait.”

“What?”

“I’ve never given you these,” he said, and opened the case instead of taking the tulips that were open and near the door, like he always did.

“They’re yellow and red,” said Eren as Jean brought them over to the counter and rang them up.

“They’re variegated tulips—multicolored.”

“What do these symbolize?”

Jean smiled, looking a little smug and overly romantic. “Beautiful eyes,” he said in an exaggerated sultry voice.

Eren laughed, the sound of it filling the shop, and Jean smiled, his heart swelling like a balloon, and it felt like someone could pop it and he would die any second now.

“You’re so  _cheesy_ ,” said Eren. “Is that what it really means though?”

Jean just pulled Eren by the collar over the counter, mumbling a “yeah” on his lips before he kissed him. Eren laid the flowers down before he placed both hands on the back of Jean’s neck, and they kissed until their chests ached unbearably and they couldn't breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it came out rushed and clumsy, but it was still tons fun to write. I wanted to include more eruri as well as Mikasa/Armin/Hanji, but they didn't make it in there much, sadly.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading ;A;
> 
> edit: So many typos, oh my god. I hope I've caught them all *~*;;


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